


A Land Without

by heckofabecca



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Gen, Politics
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-03
Updated: 2016-02-03
Packaged: 2018-05-18 01:53:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,569
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5893618
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heckofabecca/pseuds/heckofabecca
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Neriya Barben’s home planet, Ia, is falling apart, and the New Republic has failed to provide the help the planet needs. Neriya, heiress to one of Ia’s leading families, is chosen to take part in a mission to negotiate with the First Order for help before Ia must be abandoned for good.</p><p>Alone in uncertain territory, Neriya must protect herself (and her family’s interests) from her fellow ambassador’s schemes, ensure a successful outcome in negotiations with the First Order, and keep her cool while dealing with one of the most hot-tempered and dangerous beings in the galaxy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Land Without

The _Prophet’s Grace_ came out of lightspeed while Neriya was pulling her overdress over her head. She stumbled slightly. Viga steadied her and pulled the dress down.

“You alright, milady?”

“Of course.” Neriya swung her arms experimentally while Viga cinched a woven belt around her waist. “They did warn us, after all. I’m just not used to lightspeed travel. It’s been awhile.” Privately, she wondered how her servant, who’d never been off Ia, was so steady. But Viga wasn’t the sort to let something as insignificant as an intergalactic mission get in the way of being steady.

Neriya settled into her padded chair and smoothed out her skirts. She grabbed her datapad while Viga made quick work of the pins holding up her hair. Once free, it fell in a thick dark cloud around her shoulders.

“I’m still not sure why Madam Keraben told me to memorize their military insignia, but it’s strangely soothing,” Neriya said. She swiped through a row of images of various uniforms, all black with varying patches and pins. “Private, general, lieutenant colonel.” She paused at one, and held it up so Viga could see. “Do you remember this one?”

Viga glanced down while straightening out a tinkling silver headdress. “Isn’t that a cadet?”

Neriya pouted at her servant in the mirror as Viga carefully arranged the headdress. “Prophet help me. Cadets don’t have any insignia.” She tapped the image for the answer. “It’s a sergeant,” she announced, and tossed her datapad back on the dressing table.

“Perhaps you should spend your time reacquainting yourself with the people you’ll actually meet,” Viga said. She fluffed Neriya’s hair one last time and draped a scarf over her mistress’s head and shoulders. “All set.”

Neriya rubbed her neck. “Our preliminary meeting is with Major Drayven. The next meeting is with Colonel Tay Jasha.” She furrowed her brow, lips tight. “Prophet willing.”

She stood up and examined herself in the long mirror, turning to look herself over at different angles. As a representative acting on behalf of the general population, Neriya had chosen to wear white and blue, Ia’s planetary colors, to the first few meetings. She’d save her family colors for later. She wondered if Major Drayven had spent as much time studying Ia as she had spent memorizing military insignias. She looked proper, and powerful, but she couldn’t hold a smile.

“I suppose memorizing those insignia helps me forget why we’re really here.”

Viga looked up from sorting her combs and pins. “Well, it’s no wonder you find it preferable. And you’ve always been good at memory games. It must be nice to feel…” The older woman trailed off, eyebrows raised.

“Qualified? Successful? It almost reminds me of my tutelage days. Dare I say this makes me relaxed?” Neriya grimaced. “No, there isn’t any real relaxation for me now. No one at home can truly be relaxed until this issue is resolved, so how can I be?”

“Endless stress isn’t productive,” Viga said. She rolled up her hairdressing kit and tucked it into its slot in her belt. “In fact, it’s demonstrably distracting. Better that you get some relief so this mission succeeds.” She headed for the door, but paused before leaving. “I can’t speak for everyone on Ia, but I don’t care how you feel. I’d rather you succeed than worry. Worrying won’t save the planet.”

Neriya blinked rapidly as the door slid shut behind Viga.

“Succeed. Right.”

She lifted her chin, threw back her shoulders, and picked up her datapad.

“Captain. Major. Private first class.”

\---

By the time K2-L0, Madam Keraben’s protocol droid, came to escort her to the boarding room, Neriya had almost finished memorizing the insignia.

“Miss Barben, we have almost reached the rendezvous point. Madam Keraben is waiting for you.” K2-L0’s mincing walk was slower than Neriya’s, but she kept pace with the droid. “The power chairs are fully functioning, and yours is fitted out to your specifications.”

“Thank you, Ello,” Neriya said, hiding a wince. She’d almost forgotten about the gravity disparity.

K2-L0 made a little bow while walking. “It was my pleasure to instruct the technical units. They do seem to appreciate direct instructions.”

Neriya fell back and let K2-L0 lead the way.

She’d practiced standing and walking in the heavier gravity that non-Iaans lived in in the weeks leading up to the mission, and she’d done well enough. At twenty-seven, she was able to stand longer than Madam Keraben with her middle-aged heart, despite the latter’s more frequent galactic travels.

But however well she did privately, exhausting herself for a preliminary meeting with a mere major wasn’t what Neriya had in mind. And she certainly wasn’t going to leave any room for accidentally embarrassing her fellow emissary. They represented the same interests, the same people (well, mostly), and the same planet. Anyway, her last session in standard galactic gravity was days ago, back when they were still on Ia. Her heart had finally stopped making disturbing palpitations. She’d rather retain a steady heartbeat for as long as she could.

“Here we are, Miss Barben,” K2-L0 announced. He led the way into the _Grace_ ’s stately entry chamber, where a middle-aged woman sat in a float chair talking quietly with a crewmember. “Mistress Elena, here is Miss Barben.”

Madam Keraben rose from her hover chair, and Neriya smiled tightly at her. They kissed each other’s cheeks in greeting.

“Prophet’s blessing,” Neriya said.

“And to you, Miss Barben.”

Elena Keraben was a handsome woman, regal and tall. Her thick black hair was wound around her head and braided with gold. She was dressed in robes of brown and green, her family’s colors.

Neriya wondered what Major Drayven would make of a planetary emissary dressing in their family colors. Then she wondered if anyone besides her would notice, and decided probably not. As much as her planet depended on this deal, no one cared about the future of Ia except the twenty thousand souls living there.

“How long until we reach the rendezvous point?” Madam Keraben asked the crewmember. She settled back into her float chair, the heavy folds of her robes pooling around her feet.

“In just a minute or so, ma’am.”

While she looked over her hover chair, Neriya shot glances at the crewmember with something between pity and envy. He looked a million years younger than she felt, which meant about twenty. Neriya couldn’t remember his name (Dov? Duv?), but she remembered that he, like herself, had never been outside their home quadrant before. Unlike her, though, he couldn’t ruin negotiations by doing the wrong thing. He would stay on the _Prophet’s Grace_ while Neriya and Elena Keraben tried to hide the desperation of their mission.

Neriya took a deep breath in lieu of a sigh, and then Captain Elkan’s voice came on through the ship’s speakers.

“We’re within range of the carrier. Opening communications channel with the _Moff Tarkin_ ahead of boarding.”

Neriya surreptitiously wiped her palms on her skirts as she settled into her float chair. She saw the feral look on Madam Keraben’s face. Was she was as confident as she looked? Neriya fixed a neutral expression on her own face as the speakers buzzed again.

“We’re about to board the _Moff Tarkin_ ,” Captain Elkan said, and Neriya closed her eyes and took three deep breaths.

By the time she opened her eyes, the _Prophet’s Grace_ had landed inside the larger carrier. The boarding ramp lowered, and Neriya and Madam Keraben exchanged a look as they powered up their float chairs. They floated down the ramp.

The captain’s voice came over the comm system one last time. “Prophet’s blessing go with you.” Neriya almost smiled, and then she was squinting in the harsh light of the _Moff Tarkin_ ’s loading bay.

Gravity hit hard. As her heart hammered under the increased pressure, Neriya clenched her muscles. She could do little more than stare at the starkly mechanical black and white surroundings as her hover chair floated on. The ceiling seemed a mile away. A row of starfighters ran lengthwise along each of the longer walls. Between the boxes of cargo, the floor was crawling with soldiers fully clad in white armor.

Stormtroopers.

Major Drayven stood closeby, watching them approach with his eyes cool. His black uniform was as utilitarian as Neriya’s robes were luxurious. Two stormtroopers flanked Drayven, holding blasters against their chests. Neriya’s skin crawled. Every other time she’d seen a blaster, they’d been there to protect her. These weapons felt more like a threat.

“Welcome aboard,” Major Drayven said. His voice was polite but clipped.

“Thank you, Major Dayven,” Madam Keraben said. Her colorful robes seemed out of place in this severe setting. Neriya nodded carefully to Drayven when his gaze passed over her appraisingly.

“If you will follow me, ambassadors,” Drayven said. He turned about and led them away from the _Prophet’s Grace_ into the bowels of the Moff Tarkin.

As they headed away, Neriya glanced back over her shoulder at the _Grace_. A squadron of stormtroopers headed up the ship’s ramp. She wondered what they expected to find. She wondered whether adjusting to gravity was easier the other way around.

Drayven led them into a turbolift. The doors hissed shut, and the lift shot up away from the loading bay and the _Prophet’s Grace_.

The First Order had her now. Neriya wondered whether or not it would ever let her go.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to [Katie](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Scarlet_MacDuff23/profile%22) for listening to my rambling brainstorms.
> 
> Thanks to you for reading! xo


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